


Pool Party

by blueberrynewt



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Multi, Silly, Swimming Pools, maybe leaning a little towards crack idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 03:43:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19099069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueberrynewt/pseuds/blueberrynewt
Summary: Jim and Spock like to go swimming in the mornings. Bones always declines. Jim is determined.





	Pool Party

**Author's Note:**

> so it's been a busy couple of weeks (moving, traveling) and i haven't been doing a ton of writing, but i found out today that the Enterprise has a swimming pool and i had to write this. it's sort of nonsense. i'm very fond of it. please enjoy.
> 
> (also, I tagged this as TOS because I gravitate toward that crew, but this could totally be an aged-up version of the AOS triumvirate too. some of Spock's lines come through in Zachary Quinto's voice instead of Leonard Nimoy's, for me.)
> 
> now updated with brilliant art by lejoursobre of tumblr! thank you!!

“Come on, Bones, just a few laps? It’ll be fun! Spock’s coming.”

Leonard raises an eyebrow. “ _That’s_ your selling point? Jim, you really gotta work on your elevator pitches.”

Jim waves a hand. “As if you don’t enjoy his company.” He drops his voice. “You know, he’d never tell you, but I’m sure he wants you to join us as much as I do.”

“Doesn’t sound very logical,” Leonard quips, and turns around to pick up a PADD and check his schedule for the day. Two surgeries, a series of crew physicals, some time training the new resident they just picked up at Yorktown, and a few hours to work on his own research. Unless people come in with injuries (as they undoubtedly will), in which case he’ll have to drop everything and tend to them. No time-sensitive experiments today, then. He glances back up at Jim, who’s still standing in the doorway looking all innocent and pleading. Leonard snorts.

“Tell your hobgoblin he’ll have to make do without my company. I told you, I never exercise before breakfast.”

“ _My_ hobgo—?”

“Fine,” Leonard interrupts, “ _our_ hobgoblin. My answer stands. I’m not going swimming with you.”

Jim assumes a magnanimous expression. “I’m sure we can wait until after you’ve eaten.”

“Are you kidding?” Leonard frowns. “I need time to digest. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Come on,” Jim wheedles again, stepping inside Leonard’s quarters and letting the door slide shut behind him. “You’re not that much older than me. Why, you don’t look a day over —”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, James Tiberius.” He waggles the PADD warningly in Jim’s face.

“Is that so?” Jim raises his eyebrows, and Leonard gets the point. Truth be told, flattery has gotten Jim pretty far when it comes to Leonard. He doesn’t deign to answer, and Jim tries again. “Well, how about after you’ve finished digesting?”

Leonard snorts a second time. “You think I’m on vacation or something?” He shows Jim the schedule. “I’ve got my hands full just keeping this blasted irresponsible crew of yours in working order. Do you know I had _fourteen_ broken bones to heal yesterday? I don’t know how they manage it.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” Jim raises a placating hand, then adopts his most winning smile. “How about tomorrow, then? Your shift doesn’t start till eleven. We’d love for you to join us.”

Leonard notices with some alarm that his resolve is beginning to crumble under the force of Jim’s deliberate charm. He tears his gaze away and turns around to fuss with his uniform in the mirror. “I’ll think about it,” he says. “Now shoo, I can’t eat breakfast with you breathing down my neck.”

Jim gives a little hum as if he wants to see what Leonard would do if he _did_ breathe down his neck. He opens his mouth, but Leonard cuts him off before he can voice that particular thought. “I said, scram. Git. Leave me in peace.” He waves a hand at the door. “ _Go_.”

Jim purses his lips, then shrugs and backs out the door, which slides noiselessly open at his approach. He spreads his hands. “Can’t blame a man for trying.”

“Can’t I?” Leonard retorts. He watches Jim go and waits for the door to close before he allows a fond, exasperated smile to cross his face. The smile stays on for a good ten minutes.

 

***

 

Leonard wakes up the next morning to a chime at the door. There’s a puddle of drool by his mouth, and he rolls away in distaste, coming within inches of rolling straight off the bed. He grumbles and sits halfway up in bed, rubbing his eyes. “Go ‘way!” he calls in a slurred, half-asleep voice. He’d been counting on sleeping in.

“Bones,” says Jim’s voice, and Leonard would roll his eyes if he was awake enough to keep them open. “It’s me,” he adds unnecessarily.

“Come in, then,” Leonard grunts, sliding back down into bed and pulling up his blanket. The door opens, then closes, and Jim takes a few steps forward. Leonard hears him pause.

“What’re you doing in bed?” Jim asks. “It’s a _beautiful_ morning in Sector 871-lambda, you should be up and about by now.”

“If you don’t mind, Jim,” Leonard says through a yawn, “I was up half the night saving my captain and first officer from near-certain death. You should remember, there weren’t any head wounds.”

“I came to see if you’d decided to go swimming with us today. Spock and I are meeting for a few laps at 0900.”

“No.”

“You said you’d think about it.”

Leonard half-opens his eyes to glare up at Jim. “I did think about it. I decided _no_.”

Jim raises his eyebrows. He’s never mastered the single-eyebrow raise, and Leonard lets himself feel a little smug about it. “And how long, exactly, did you think about it?”

“About one point eight four seconds.” Leonard lets his eyes close again.

“You’re starting to sound like Spock.”

“No need to be insulting, Jim. You’ve got a physical scheduled for next week.”

“Is that a threat?” Jim asks.

“Yes.” Leonard pulls the blanket tighter around himself. “Now stop pestering me, you great lummox.”

“Come on, Bones —”

“Shut up.”

“You —”

Leonard squints at the clock by his bed. “You’d better get going. Spock’ll give you hell if you’re late to your swim date.”

Jim starts and looks at the time. “Damn it, you’re right. Well, I’ll — I’ll see you around, Bones.” He gives Leonard a last pleading look, then hurries out the door.

Leonard exhales in the blissful silence. “Good riddance,” he mutters, and drops back into sleep.

***

 

It goes on like that for a few weeks. Jim can’t stop talking about how much _better_ he feels ever since he started swimming every morning, how _invigorating_ the exercise is. If Spock happens to be in the same room, he’ll start extolling the benefits of swimming as a form of exercise, how it develops a variety of muscles without straining the joints, how it’s even been demonstrated to improve sleep, mood, and stress levels in humans. (Vulcans, he never fails to point out, are perfectly competent at managing their own sleep, mood, and stress levels.) When he gets into one of his lectures, it’s all Leonard can do to shut him up.

The truth is, Leonard’s not completely sure why he’s so resistant to going. Oh, there’s some shyness — he’s never been a great swimmer, for one thing, and also he’s not exactly keen to go parading around in swim trunks at his age — and he _is_ busy, but those are minor obstacles. At this point, he’s just been refusing for long enough that it’s become a habit, and he’s loath to give in to Jim after putting up such a good fight. So he goes on refusing, and Jim goes on asking, and Spock goes on raising his eyebrows with that expression that so clearly says _you are being illogical_ even when he doesn’t talk. It’s almost a ritual.

Leonard has just gotten off a long shift and is heading for the turbolift when footsteps hurry up behind him.

“Bones! Bones, wait up.”

Leonard stifles a sigh, glances at the ceiling, and reluctantly slows his pace. Jim huffs a little as he comes alongside, putting a hand on Leonard’s shoulder.

“I’m glad I caught you, I’ve got something I want to show you.”

“From the away mission?” Leonard asks. “Why didn’t you bring it to Sickbay? I woulda taken a look.”

Jim waves a hand. “Oh, it’s not a medical matter. Just something I thought you’d find interesting. It’s in my quarters.” Something about his voice, or maybe his expression, seems off. Leonard narrows his eyes as they step into the turbolift.

“What is it?”

“You’ll see,” Jim murmurs distractedly, taking one of the handles. He gives it a twitch and says, “Deck twenty-one.”

It takes a moment for Leonard to realize that something’s wrong. He looks sharply at Jim, who avoids his gaze. “Deck twenty-one? I thought you said we were going to your quarters.”

Jim makes a guilty expression and rubs the back of his neck. “Well, you see, I —”

“Hang on.” Leonard narrows his eyes. “Deck twenty-one is where the bowling alley is, isn’t it? And the — oh, for God’s sake, Jim.” He rolls his eyes as dramatically as he knows how. “Deck —”

“Computer,” Jim interrupts, “Lock this turbolift until it arrives at deck twenty-one. Don’t stop it at any intermediate decks. Voice authorization Kirk omicron four seven violet.”

“Voice authorization confirmed,” announces the computer. “Turbolift locked.”

Leonard lets his head fall back to knock against the turbolift wall with a loud _thunk_. He stares at the ceiling, but he can _feel_ Jim smirking at him. “This is ridiculous.”

“Why, yes, Bones, I quite agree,” says Jim in a mock-serious tone. “It’s absolutely _preposterous_ that you’ve been refusing to go to the pool for so long. Your excuses are getting weaker every day.”

“Could I get out of this if I told you I had a swimming-related childhood trauma that left me with a crippling fear of water?”

“No, I asked about that, remember? I know you wouldn’t lie to me.”

Leonard gives him a baleful look. “Here I thought _you_ wouldn’t lie to _me_. I can’t believe you lured me here under the pretense of showing me some artefact from an away mission.”

“Oh, no pretense,” Jim insists. “I really do have something to show you. We’re just taking a…a detour.”

“To the swimming pool.”

Jim grins. “To the swimming pool. Come on, you’ll love it, I promise.” His eyes are big and round and sort of mesmerizing. Leonard folds his arms and fights to keep his expression grumpy.

The doors open and Jim is positively _bouncing_ as he leads Leonard to the left and down a corridor. Leonard’s never spent an appreciable amount of time on this deck, and peers into windows as they pass. Some kind of food place. Probably worth knowing about, for midnight snacks in the middle of interminable sickbay shifts.

Jim turns left again at the end of the corridor and walks through a door. Leonard follows a pace behind, curious despite himself, and is immediately assaulted by the smell of swimming pool. The place seems to be empty, which is surprising on a ship with four hundred and thirty residents. But then, Jim’s the captain. He probably reserved it or something.

“Mission accomplished!” Jim announces, and Leonard notices Spock for the first time. The First Officer is sitting upright on a lounge chair by the side of the pool, wrapped in a soft-looking robe. He raises one neat eyebrow at Jim’s pronouncement.

“Indeed,” he says, and Leonard stifles a smile. Spock never changes, does he?

“Now, look, Jim,” begins Leonard, “I — I don’t have anything to swim in.”

Jim waves a hand in a _don’t worry about it_ gesture. “Taken care of. Here.” He strides over to another lawn chair that’s stacked with towels, and comes up with a small bundle of cloth. He separates it into two items and tosses one to Leonard. “Regulation swim trunks.”

“Starfleet has regulation swim trunks?” Leonard asks, examining them. They’re even color-coded — his are blue, Jim’s are gold — and have the fleet insignia stitched onto the hip.

“Showers are back here.” Jim picks up a larger bundle of cloth before setting out to the other side of the pool. “Here, take a robe and a towel.”

Leonard does, and follows Jim to where two small rooms contain twin showers and dressing rooms. A few minutes later, they both emerge clean and wrapped in the robes (which are, in fact, extremely soft). Jim grins gleefully.

“Now it’s a real party,” he declares, and it’s Leonard’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Party?” he echoes, his trepidation trickling back.

“You know,” says Jim, “a pool party. Here.” He reaches under the chair that Spock is perched on, and comes up with a basket of colorful items. “For the guest of honor,” he explains, as he wields an oddly glittery cone.

Leonard, settling himself on the edge on an adjacent chair, looks at it suspiciously, and soon realizes what it is. “Oh, for _God’s_ sake, Jim,” he says for the second time in several minutes, but he can’t keep a smile from breaking through. Jim just raises his eyebrows and looks at him for a few seconds, then Leonard relents and (making a show of rolling his eyes and sighing) leans forward to allow Jim to snap the party hat into place on his head.

“Woohoo!” Jim lets out a cheer. “I can’t believe we finally did it. Truly a cause for celebration.” He rummages in the basket and pulls out some kind of doodad with a curl of diamond-patterned paper and a little sparkly cylinder, and puts it to his lips. He gives it a puff and the noisemaker unfurls as it emits a strangled toot.

“Where’d you get all this stuff?” Leonard asks, poking at the remaining contents of the basket. There are two more noisemakers, some balloons, a box of cupcakes, a jar of paper confetti, and something that looks suspiciously like glitter. “It’s positively archaic.”

“Oh, I have my sources,” Jim says with a smirk and a wink. Most likely, that means _I had some poor engineering ensign input the designs into the computer and have the ship make them for me_.

Leonard glances away from Jim and realizes that Spock has taken one of the remaining noisemakers and is studying it with some interest. As he watches, the Vulcan takes a deep breath, puts the object to his lips, and blows on it as hard as he can.

Due to the thin atmosphere of their home planet, Vulcans have very impressive lungs. Leonard has had cause to note the fact on more than one medical occasion. As such, the blast that results when Spock blows on the noisemaker is enough to make both humans clap their hands over their ears.

“For crying out loud,” Leonard complains. “Some warning next time, Mister Spock?”

Spock is examining the noisemaker again. “Fascinating,” he murmurs. Looking up to see two confused faces looking back at him, he expands. “None of these objects” — he gestures to the basket — “serve any useful function, and indeed some of them have deleterious effects upon human health. Yet many people have devoted time, energy, and resources to their creation and acquisition. Why?”

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/161542031@N07/48537503986/in/dateposted-public/) [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/161542031@N07/48537647797/in/dateposted-public/) [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/161542031@N07/48537647842/in/dateposted-public/)

“Because they’re _fun_ , Spock,” Jim grins, patting him on the shoulder.

Spock nods thoughtfully. “Yes,” he says. “Fun. I have never understood —”

“You’ll have ample opportunity to study it today,” Jim promises. “Today is all about fun.” He looks over at Leonard. “That goes for you, too.”

Leonard sees a glimmer of hope. “If you’re talking about fun,” he suggests, “maybe you’d care to provide some brandy?”

“Brandy?” Jim looks affronted. “You don’t drink _brandy_ at a pool party, Bones. Where’s your sense of style?”

“Back on Earth, along with my youth and dignity,” Leonard says.

“Well, you’re still not drinking brandy at this party,” Jim insists. “Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

He disappears, and Leonard rests his head on his hand and plucks at the elastic strap of the party hat around his chin. He wonders if he should open the cupcakes while Jim is away.

Spock is regarding him steadily, a small crease between his brows, and Leonard raises an eyebrow in response. “What is it?”

“I am…perplexed,” Spock admits. “You seem to be unhappy with the proceedings, yet you have made no attempt to leave. And the captain appears unconcerned.”

“Oh, I see.” Leonard lets through a half-smile. “Well, it’s like this. I’m putting on a show of being grouchy, because that’s what I do, and because it — it gives Jim something to play off of. He knows I’m actually enjoying every second of it, so he keeps going. It’s like — we’re playacting, you see?”

“Hm.” Spock steeples his fingers. “That is quite —”

“Illogical, yes, I know,” Leonard agrees. “What can I say? We’re illogical creatures.”

“Indeed,” Spock agrees, and they lapse into silence again.

A minute passes.

“Think he’d mind if I opened the cupcakes without him?” Leonard asks.

Spock glances at the pastries in question. “I do not believe he would be unduly upset.”

“Thanks, Spock,” Leonard says as he pops open the box. “You’re very reassuring, you know that?”

Jim returns when Leonard is halfway through his first cupcake. He’s holding three curiously fluted glasses, each filled with a slowly swirling liquid of electric blue and cranberry red. He grins widely.

“Kobheerian punch,” he explains, gesturing with one of the glasses. “It’s got a nice kick to it. Spock?”

Spock accepts his glass with a faint look of resignation. Leonard is a little more enthusiastic. He takes a sip and swirls it around his mouth thoughtfully.

“Not bad,” he admits, swallowing. He raises his glass, and the other two clink against it.

Jim sits beside Spock, sips his own drink, and nods appreciatively, then gives a start. “I almost forgot!” he exclaims, then snaps his fingers at Leonard. “Bones. Basket.”

Leonard raises an eyebrow again. His eyebrow-raising muscles are starting to ache. “Yes, _sir_ ,” he shoots back, but passes the basket anyway. Jim shuffles around and grins when he pulls his hand out with some little papery somethings clutched in it. He reached around and drops one of the items into each of their glasses. Leonard stares at his.

“Jim,” he says, “you put a goddamn umbrella in my drink.”

“I did,” Jim agrees. “Don’t look so sour about it. It’s traditional.”

Leonard snorts and takes another sip. The punch really is good, and he settles back in his chair with a sigh.

A few minutes later, Jim reaches over and pats his knee through the robe. “All right, Bones. Pool time.”

Leonard makes a face. “I’m a doctor, not a swimmer.”

“You know,” Jim remarks, “you _can_ be more than one thing. I, for instance, am not only a starship captain, but also a dashing gentleman, a loyal friend” — Leonard snorts at the word _friend_ , and Spock definitely raises an eyebrow too — “and an excellent party planner. Now, in the pool with you.”

He stands and starts peeling off his robe, and Spock follows suit. Spock is first into the pool, gliding away with smooth, even strokes while Jim is still cajoling Leonard. Leonard puts up the bare minimum of a fuss before he gets to his feet and takes off his own robe. He follows Jim to the pool steps and walks in. The water is the perfect temperature, of course, and frankly feels wonderful. Leonard kicks off and swims away, forgetting to care that he can’t keep up with Spock or even Jim. It’s just nice to swim.

Jim has kicked his way over to another side of the pool, and is reaching out over the edge to fumble with a pair of long, curved objects. Leonard swims closer. “What’s that?” he asks.

Jim turns around with a grin. “Pool noodle,” he explains, as if that means anything. He reaches over with one of the things — colored a slightly garish purple — and bonks Leonard on the head with it. It’s light and soft. Leonard takes it, and frowns.

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

A stream of water hits him in the face, and he splutters. Jim lifts his mouth from one end of his own, orange pool noodle, and gives him a playful grin. Leonard belatedly realizes that the stream of water came from the other end of the orange noodle. He frowns, then raises his eyebrows, dips one end of his purple noodle underwater, and aims the other end toward Jim. He hits him square in the nose, Jim retaliates in kind, and the situation quickly devolves into a splash war, occasionally augmented by the noodle water cannons.

They look up after a few minutes to see Spock watching them silently, one eyebrow raised so high it’s almost completely disappeared under his hair, which is soaking wet and plastered to his forehead.

“I assume,” says Spock, “that this is another example of _fun_?”

Leonard grins and nods. “Sure is. You should try it.”

Spock regards him. “I believe I will,” he says. “Jim, would you please pass me a noodle?”

They both stare for a moment, nonplussed. “You,” Jim says uncertainly, “you want to —”

“To play,” Spock confirms. “I believe this is a good opportunity to learn more about the concept of fun.”

“Right.” Jim nods several times, then reaches over the side of the pool and grabs a green noodle, which he tosses to Spock. Spock looks closely at the object, then dunks it underwater and sends a high-speed jet of water streaming toward Jim’s head. Jim lets out an undignified shriek and dives underwater to escape the blast.

After half an hour or so of messing around, Leonard is worn out. He makes his excuses and wraps himself again in his robe, settling on his lawn chair with the remains of his punch and another cupcake. He’s long since abandoned the pretense of displeasure, and hums as he peels back the wrapper on the cupcake.

Jim and Spock are still standing in the pool. After a few seconds, Jim gets that particular look on his face that means he’s had an idea. Usually, it’s an idea Leonard won’t like, but Jim’s kind of on a roll today.

“Hey, Spock,” calls Jim, and now Leonard _knows_ it’s going to be good. “You ever play Marco Polo?”

Spock frowns slightly. “I believe Marco Polo was the name of an Italian explorer in the —”

“Not the historical figure.” Jim waves a hand. “The _game_. One person closes his eyes and says ‘Marco,’ and the other has to say ‘Polo’ and try to escape the first one, who’s chasing him. We played it all the time as kids.”

Spock nods. “A logical exercise for children to practice responding to auditory stimuli.”

Leonard rolls his eyes fondly and takes a sip. In the pool, Jim says, “It’s not an exercise, it’s a _game_ ,” and punctuates the last word with a splash. Spock raises an eyebrow as if to say _I fail to see the difference_ , but doesn’t argue.

“I’ll show you,” Jim offers. “You be ‘it’ first. Just close your eyes, spin around for five seconds, and say ‘Marco’ whenever you want, then try to catch me. I warn you,” he adds, “I was the best in the neighborhood at this game in my day.”

Spock does as he’s told. While he spins around, Jim slips underwater and swims around Spock and gets as far away as he can, resurfacing just as Spock says, “Marco.”

“Polo,” calls Jim, and watches Spock as he approaches. He waits until the last moment, then dives to the left. Spock changes course instantly, and Jim comes up coughing with Spock’s hand fastened to his upper arm.

“I believe,” says Spock, opening his eyes, “I have won.”

Jim looks crestfallen, and Leonard has to butt in. “Don’t feel bad, Jim,” he calls from his chair. “He’s got a biological advantage, you know. Those Vulcan ears of his.”

They go on playing for a while longer. Whenever Spock is it, he catches Jim in less than twenty seconds. Whenever Jim is it, he splashes around the pool for at least three minutes before he catches Spock, and Leonard has a sneaking suspicion that when he does get Spock, it’s only because the Vulcan allows it.

Eventually, they both emerge dripping, and towel themselves dry before donning their robes. Jim sprawls in the chair beside Leonard and puts his hands behind his head with a sigh.

“Thanks for coming to the party, Bones,” he says. “I haven’t had that much fun since…oh, Rigel Four?”

“Not that you gave me much choice in the matter,” Leonard replies, “but for what it’s worth, you’re welcome. Thanks for dragging me down here.”

Jim beams at him, then lifts his head to look across at Spock. “You too, Spock. Thanks.”

Spock is still sitting upright. “You are welcome,” he says. “It has been an…edifying experience.”

Leonard rolls his eyes at Jim. “You know,” he remarks, “I think Spock here is the only person in the galaxy who could spend an hour splashing around and playing Marco Polo, of all the damn things, and call it _edifying_.”

“Did you not find the afternoon to be educational, Leonard?” Spock asks. Leonard turns his head to look at him.

“No,” he says. “Fun, relaxing, refreshing, exhausting, ridiculous, silly? Sure. But _educational_ _?_  Not a bit.”

“I see.” Spock folds his hands on his chest and lies back in his chair at last. He’s quiet for a bit. “I am…pleased that you enjoyed it.”

 

***

 

“So, what is it you want to show me?” Leonard asks, unsticking his uniform shirt from his damp neck. The turbolift glides upwards as he speaks.

“You’ll see,” promises Jim. “You’ll like it, I swear.”

The doors open and they step out into the corridor that leads to Jim’s quarters. Spock falls into step on Leonard’s other side. They crowd into Jim’s front room, and Spock and Leonard hang back while Jim ducks into his bedroom. He emerges a second later holding a bulbous bottle full of a deep amber liquid.

“Is that —”

“Brandy,” Jim confirms. “Or the closest thing to it on Elat. It’s very good.” He pours three glasses and hands them out. They touch their glasses together, Spock with the omnipresent air of humoring these illogical humans and their inexplicable customs. Leonard takes a sip.

“You weren’t wrong,” he says, smacking his lips. “I do like this.”

Jim grins. “Knew it.”

“Captain,” says Spock, peering into his drink, “I was under the impression that Elat had a strict prohibition against alcoholic beverages of any kind.”

Jim looks a little abashed. Leonard laughs aloud.

“You brought me _contraband_ liquor,” he says. “Jim, you’re a goddamn treasure.”

Jim smiles so brightly it hurts to look at. Spock watches them closely through unreadable eyes, and Leonard knows that if he were human, he’d be beaming.


End file.
